I came across this (unnamed) poem on a blog I visited today, and it seems to say a lot...

No revolution will come in time

To alter this man's life

Except the one surprise

Of being loved.

He has no interest in Civil Rights

New marxisim

Psychiatry

Or any kind if sex.

He has only twelve more hours to live

So never mind about

A cure for smoking, cancer, leprosy,

Or osteo arthritis.

Over this dead loss to society

Pour your precious ointment,

Call the bluff

And laugh at the

Fat and clock faced gravity

Of our economy.

You wash the feet that

Will not walk tomorrow.

Come levity of love,

Show him, show me

In this last step of time

Eternity, leaping and capering.

Sydney Carter, dedicated to Mother Theresa, quoted in Sheila Cassidy Good Friday People,  p 53-4

 

To Carter it speaks of Mother Theresa, to Cassidy it speaks of the work of hospices.  To me, it just speaks...

To what purpose this waste?  Love God, and love your neighbour as you love yourself...

This is not a totally 'duh' question honest.

I am going to start working loosely with the lectionary (RCL) at the start of February but have not bought a copy of Roots or Light, so I don't actually know which weeks are 'missed out' when Easter comes early.  Do I skip over early or late Epiphany Sundays or do I make a random selection?!  I'm sure there's a nice set of rule somewhere, but I don't know where - so can someone tell me?  And, for more interest, who decided what the rules are and how?

Week 2 of Catriona's new 2008 study regime, which means two half day slots a week, and it is already proving tricky, but doing better than I feared it might.

I have just spent four hours with real paper and a real pencil doing real writing.  Beginning to form some ideas for an article I have to write.  It is not a quick process, but I wrote about 2500 words and most of them make sense.  Not all will make it into the typed article but they have helped my thinking process along, not least because I wasn't constantly interrupted by checking bibliographic details or faffing around with Endnote, footnotes or formatting.  (Though I did note that they needed to be checked and added)

It was fun.  Not a better way of writing, just different.  A decade ago I had to learn how to think and type togther, nowadays it is a treat to think without typing!  Obviously I will have to type up some of what I wrote - and it will get edited and revised in the process.  Obviously I will need to tighten up the language - farewell to my lovely adjectives and non essential illustrations from real life - but at least I have something to show for my morning's endeavours: six sides of narrow lined A4 manuscript which, being in pencil, will not fade with time and, after today, cannot be successfully erased (don't ask me why, I don't know the chemistry or physics of it).

I am intrigued by the diffenrence in feel of the two approaches to 'writing' and their relative merits.  My handwritten spelling is infinitely better than the typed version, and I omit less words due to brain being faster than fingers.  My English often flows better on paper and is less 'report like' perhaps because of subconscious associations?  But the bottom line - of time and deadlines means that inevitably most stuff has to pass from brain to computer with its only 'mulling' being when I'm doing other things.  In the days when I had a real job, most of my 'work' was paper and pencil/pen and the only typing the formal write-ups.  It was only once I started writing essays the change took place.  Maybe I need to rediscover my analogue intelligence?

Today has been an interesting day!  Someone who four years ago really struggled with any of my more creative or meditative approaches to worship made a point of asking if we could have more of the kind of thing we had at this/last week's church meeting (a reflective series of images interspersed with words from songs and scripture in PowerPoint with background instrumental music).  Then he started talking about our pub outreach thing and asked me if I'd wear a dog collar in future because it would help people in the pub to recognise me as who (in role terms) I am.  I said yes, provided I could still wear my jeans!

It's an interesting one, isn't it - well it is for me anyway.

Like lots of good Bappies, I went off to college vowing I'd never do dog collars (long since learned never to say never....) but by the time I  left had conceded to 'clerical' for funerals, weddings and hospital visiting.  This goes down fine around here, it is the same as my predecsssor did; indeed, people have commented that they knew/know they are ill if visited by minister in collar.

I have to be honest and say that my logic for using said 2 inches of white plastic originates in reasons that are far from theological - though like any good theologian I can back-fit theology to it.  The first time I donned a dog collar was for a funeral I was doing jointly with someone who was not an acredited minister of any known denomination, but who used the title reverend and "clericalled."  My not at all holy logic was that in order to be credible, I had better do likewise!  The next time I was 'collared' I was conducting the funeral of a former work colleague, with a congrgeation that consisted mainly of the people I had worked alongside for eleven years, and it was two inches of plastic to hide behind and hopefully convince me and them I knew what I was doing.  It also let the undertakers know who was in charge!

There is something about this act of dressing up that I find helpful in some situations, so that it isn't just Catriona who goes into them, but a Revd who is called Catriona.  Last summer, someone helpfully suggested to me that for non-church people the dressed up person - even if it's only a minimal two inches of white plastic - can become in some sense a 'type' or an 'icon' for church.  In other words, it isn't just me who benefits from hiding behind the role, rather, and more profoundly, in some way I 'embody' or 'incarnate' church for that moment.  That is quite scary, and probabby means I ought to behave in a more vicar-like manner when so-clad (discuss), but it is also a position of privilege - to be allowed to act in what is essentially a priestly role.

So there's the rub - if we believe in the priesthood of all believers, however we understand that, why should I be the one who has to dress up when we are in the pub?  And what does it mean if I'm not there?  I understand the representative role Iam being asked to fulfil, and think it probably makes sense.  But, I am then left wondering if I should become like an Anglican and sleep in the thing because I'm not sure I see a difference between being the minister when I'm on church business and being the minister when I'm not.

On balance, I've decided to give it go and see what happens.  Maybe a girlie vicar in the bar will attract appropriate interest in what we are about?  In due course I'll let you know.

Today we made our covenant together as God's people as we begin another year of mission and ministry.  Because I was a late settler, and because I began work in this fellowship on 1st January (2004) the new calendar year has become a time when we recommit to each other, and to God, for the year ahead.  In some senses this is a tad odd, because our AGM is mid-March, and the church year probably starts then with the appointment of new deacons etc, though our church financial year is calendar and when we used to keep anniversaries the church one was October... confused?  You should be!

I preached on 1 Chronicles 17 - Nathan's message to David about building a house (dwelling) for God or God building a house (succession) for David.  We focussed on three paired questions....

• What do we want?  What does God want?
• What are we hearing?  What is God actually saying?
• Build a church? or Build the Church?

In a couple of weeks we have a vision day, to be led by the minister of a church in a similar boat to our own, at which we are seeking to discern what God is saying to us about the future of our fellowship.  To be able to distinguish between what we want - which may be instrinsically good but not right for now - and what God wants - which may be scary and involve risk.  To be able to test out what we are hearing to see if it really is God's voice or just our own ideas.  To build the church with or without a church building.  These are big things to undertake, so it is important that we first have the commitment one to another and to God.

After the sermon we made our covenant promise, one which has evolved from various sources but says what we need to say...

As we made our promises, and as we shared bread and wine, I looked out over these people with whom I have been entrusted.  Some of them will need a lot of TLC this year, some face incredible personal challenges, some of them are preparing to lay down roles they've held for more than half my lifetime, some are beginning to gain the confidence to step out into new ventures.  As I looked out, I realised, as I do each year at this point, just how far we've travelled in the last 12 months.

We ended the service with Estelle White's bouncy pilgrim hymn 'Moses, I know your the man' which for me always seems to speak into our situation (but I only pick about once a year)

So every day, we're on our way,

For we're a wandering, travelling race,

We're the People of God!

Thankfully, I cannot know what 2008 will bring us.  I hope that as a fellowship our general (church) health and cohesion is such that we will be able to fulfil the words of another favourite hymn of mine by Richard Gillard...

I will weep when you are weeping,

When you laugh I'll laugh with you

I will share your joy and sorrow

Till we've seen this journey through

Covenanting is a great tradition, and I think doing it annually is healthy.  It is never easy - but then it shouldn't be - because it demands of us that which Jesus himself demands - that we love and our neighbour.  I left the service with a sense of warmth (though not a Weslyan strange warmth!) and peace - God has brought us safe this far, and God will lead us on.